Wait, wasn't that the name of that chick on "Night Court"?
No. It's me, aced my CBC with 228K platelets and the grace of God and medical advances in horse serum and mustache-growing prescription medications.
And that is the sound of my bone marrow making platelets and even more red blood cells.
"Your aspirate shows that your bone marrow is getting better, but it's still not normal." What about me is normal anyway, so I'll take it.
To be continued, September 14th.
Wednesday, August 15, 2007
Wednesday, August 1, 2007
Hang in there with pie.
I forgot to note last time: For anyone keeping score still, last time at the doctor's office, I had 222k platelets up from 202k. That's pretty good for 3 weeks' work. And my red blood cells are starting to come up. I think my marrow is producing more cells instead of just bigger cells as it was doing the past few months. It's been fascinating for me to learn things, and how the body was designed to compensate and renew itself if it couldn't repair itself completely.
Sometimes I'm keeping score, but mostly, I'm not, I gotta say. I'm just readjusting to a life that's worth living for so many incredible reasons. I think it's amazing what has happened to me since last November when I was first diagnosed with this ITP/aplastic anemia thing. It's too much to think about at once. I don't feel like getting the bends. And I'm still not far enough away to get a good look at it because I'm out of the woods, but still too close to the trees to see the forest.
Are those cliches or analogies? I don't know. But it's a good way to describe it all.
Lots of people have asked me, "What do you do now? Are you cured?" Well, I hope so. Seems this type of blood disorder was very rare, and all I can do it watch it from now on for the rest of my life with hopefully only bi-annual or annual checkups. I still wonder where the weekly mysterious bruises come from. But then I remember, I'm still healing up. But nicely.
While I am still on that cookieduster-growing Cyclosporine, the dosage has been steadily reduced. Which is excellent news. My doctor promised me that next time, I will probably get to reduce it even further. The Colonel Sander's mustache has gone away, but the Aztec bone-picker nails seem to be holding in there nicely. And when I brush my hair now, I can feel it's thickened and not one strand is left behind in my brush.
Which to me is all weird. My mom said, "One day, you will look back on this and realize how bad you felt and how sick you really were." She's right. She's always right.
So I guess that is my advice to you if you have Googled here, wondering about some strange and rare blood disorder you may have contracted. My mother's always right. "Fifteen years ago, you would have been dead from this. Thank your Dear Lord they have treatments to try now." And "Yeah. those pants do make your butt look big, but who cares? Here. Have a nice piece of pie."
Sometimes I'm keeping score, but mostly, I'm not, I gotta say. I'm just readjusting to a life that's worth living for so many incredible reasons. I think it's amazing what has happened to me since last November when I was first diagnosed with this ITP/aplastic anemia thing. It's too much to think about at once. I don't feel like getting the bends. And I'm still not far enough away to get a good look at it because I'm out of the woods, but still too close to the trees to see the forest.
Are those cliches or analogies? I don't know. But it's a good way to describe it all.
Lots of people have asked me, "What do you do now? Are you cured?" Well, I hope so. Seems this type of blood disorder was very rare, and all I can do it watch it from now on for the rest of my life with hopefully only bi-annual or annual checkups. I still wonder where the weekly mysterious bruises come from. But then I remember, I'm still healing up. But nicely.
While I am still on that cookieduster-growing Cyclosporine, the dosage has been steadily reduced. Which is excellent news. My doctor promised me that next time, I will probably get to reduce it even further. The Colonel Sander's mustache has gone away, but the Aztec bone-picker nails seem to be holding in there nicely. And when I brush my hair now, I can feel it's thickened and not one strand is left behind in my brush.
Which to me is all weird. My mom said, "One day, you will look back on this and realize how bad you felt and how sick you really were." She's right. She's always right.
So I guess that is my advice to you if you have Googled here, wondering about some strange and rare blood disorder you may have contracted. My mother's always right. "Fifteen years ago, you would have been dead from this. Thank your Dear Lord they have treatments to try now." And "Yeah. those pants do make your butt look big, but who cares? Here. Have a nice piece of pie."
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